


Making, Taking (Among the Scholars of War)

by Vivian



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hate Sex, Missing Scene, Not that it's important for this fic but Feddie is bisexual, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Will still is in love with Hannibal (but Freddie doesn't know that), sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5329100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivian/pseuds/Vivian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She takes another sip. Looks at Graham. He sits opposite her, legs crossed, eyes narrowed. She can nearly smell his contempt. She feeds on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making, Taking (Among the Scholars of War)

**Author's Note:**

> This sort of just happened. I blame hannifreddiegraham on tumblr for that. I hadn't even thought about shipping them until a couple of hours ago but now I can't unsee it.

It is the story that drives Freddie onwards. Once she has had a taste there is no coming back. She's a bloodhound, and she is hungry.

So she goes to Will Graham's house.

Something must be there, something that continues the story. Adrenaline rushes through her veins. Quick heartbeat. Shuddering breaths. When she finds what's in the shed she is both terrified and exhilarated. Body parts. A human jaw. Her vision blurs for a second. Then everything happens too quickly. Will Graham. The gun in her hands. She runs. She screams. Her car, she has to get to her car. Quickly, quickly, her fingers tremble, the car key, where is—steps, Will Graham dashing against her window, she screams—but inside her something rejoices: the story.

The glass breaks. Shards flying. Graham's hand in her hair. She screams and kicks, and he, he _laughs_ — Heat crashes through her. Then she's on the ground and Graham is above her, face so pale. He stills. She kicks her knee up. He groans and collapses on top of her. She moves up, tries to shove him away, but he catches her wrists. His breath at her neck.

“It's okay now, Freddie,” he murmurs, voice raw. She tries to bring her knee up again, he presses down on her with all his weight. But she has done this before. She twists to the side, brings her hips up, and with all her strength pushes against him. The next second she is above him and has a shard of glass against his neck. 

“It's all okay now, Will,” she says. He looks up to her with bared teeth. 

 

It's only after she has spoken to Jack Crawford on Graham's phone that she believes him. She lets the shard slide from Graham's neck, not without piercing the skin. A trickle of blood seeps into his collar. She smiles, satisfied. “Well,” Graham says strainedly.

“I'd like some whiskey,” she says. His lips twitch, but he nods. 

 

Her hands tremble when she holds the tumbler. Still the adrenaline rushes through her blood. The amber fluid sways gently, she drinks and lets it burn down her throat. Her skin is hot though she has discarded her jacket over the arm chair she sits in. Relief floods through her, and something darker too. Joy. Ravenous. She takes another sip. Looks at Graham. He sits opposite her, legs crossed, eyes narrowed. She can nearly smell his contempt. She feeds on it. 

“Now, while we're at it... why don't you tell me about Dr Lecter,” she says. Graham doesn't look up. 

“Jack will tell you all you need to know,” he grits out. Vulnerable. Protective.

“I want to know your side.”

“No,” he says, and finally looks up, “don't you think it's enough not to be dead, Freddie?” he says and there is both guilt and regret in his tone. Such a twisted creature. Freddie smiles. Graham is not quite whom she thought he might be. Or isn't yet. The temptation of violence hangs in the air, even now. But she knows he won't act upon it. He can't. He is restricted, limited, caged. And Freddie sits on the other side of the bars. _She_ can do what she likes. This is what power feels like. She will write about him with no trammels, she can create his story. For all the world to read. To get their piece of Will Graham. And she will. She will dissect and denude him. Defile him. It will be grand. 

She gets up and refills her glass. While she stands she looks down at Graham. How he sits in the half shadows. A thing of madness, muscle, morale. Such interesting material. He is both prey and predator. She takes a step towards him. This time he does look up. Such resentment in his searing gaze. She advances. He gets up with a rough motion. She pushes him back down into the chair. He grits his teeth. Then she places her knees left and right to his hips. A shuddering breath leaves him. She cocks her head to the side and looks at him. Tension. Heat. She grabs his chin and tilts it upwards. They look at each other. The next second, they are kissing. A clashing of teeth and tongue. She can taste the violence. She bites his lip and draws blood. A hand in her hair, pulling, pain in her scalp. She moves away from his mouth and slaps him, hard. His head flies to the side, an imprint of her knuckles on his cheek. A growl escapes his lips. He turns his head, eyes glinting, she laughs, megalomania pulsing in her veins. Suddenly he picks her up. With a couple of quick steps they are beside his bed and he throws her down. A heartbeat later he is above her. They kiss, violently, and she slides her legs around his hips. He presses down, and his erection is hard against her. A low moan falls from her lips. God, he feels good. Fingers at her belt. He undresses her quickly and messily, but she doesn't mind. Then Freddie lies naked underneath him while he is still clothed. Her hands find their way into his trousers the same moment his rub against her. They move against each other, the rough fabric of his jeans reddens her skin, their mouths caught in a war against each other. Then she flips them over. His startled gasp goes right down. Quickly she strips him of his shirt. She sneers at him, then moves up his body, seizes his hair and pushes his head between her legs. Without hesitation he goes to work. His fingers dig into the back of her thighs as he starts licking. 

“Mhm, yes,” she moans and rearranges his position slightly until he gets at the right spot. There'll be bruises where his fingers are now, but Freddie doesn't mind, not when white hot bliss lets her tighten her stomach muscles, lets her tremble until all thoughts dissolve into pleasure. She comes, crouched over Graham, hand twisted in his hair, cheek against the wall, her lips forming a soundless moan. 

Breathing out she moves back. Looks at Graham. Lips and chin glinting wetly. His mouth reddened. He looks up at her, and there's something feral in his eyes that lets her purse her lips. Slowly Freddie slides down his body until her thighs frame his hips. He breathes heavily, muscles straining. He wants to ravish her, she can see it, but she holds his gaze with an unspoken command.

In a fluid motion she places her hands beside his head and arches her back. Firmly she presses down and slides over his erection. Graham sucks in a breath. His hard dick moving against her clit, against her wetness. She bites her lips and closes her eyes, relishing in the feeling. Graham's hands on her thighs, on her back, her breasts. His grip is almost bruising. 

With trembling hands she fumbles through the bedside drawer until she finds a condom. Finally she reaches back to grab his cock, rolls the condom over his length and positions him before she sinks down. He is thick and hard and perfect. They both moan. For a moment she simply feels him. Then she moves until he nearly slides out of her, just to push down hard. Graham curses her under his breath and digs his hands into her hips. They kiss hungrily, messily. Again his hand is in her hair, pulling roughly, she laughs and rides him harder. When her scalp burns too much she grabs both his hands and presses them into the pillow above his head. They rut against each other, his muscles straining as she holds his hands down with all her weight. Not for long. Erratic movements, harsh, then slow, then harsh again. He breaks her hold and moves up, an arm around her hips and the fingers of the other sliding between their bodies. Freddie lets him, goes on her knees to sink down on him more easily. Her nails scratch over his back while he thrusts up into her hard. His teeth digging into her shoulder. As he finds that right angle to rub over her clit again, she pulls his hair roughly. Short breaths. She comes before him and stills her movement while he thrusts into her quickly and deeply. With satisfaction she watches him come undone, all creased brow and parted lips, as he climaxes. 

For a moment they just stay as they are. Then she moves off him. She goes back to the abandoned glass of whiskey and throws the rest of the alcohol back with a single gulp. She refills it, sips, and then starts picking up her clothes from the floor and the bed. Graham goes to some door, presumably the bathroom to discard the condom. Good.

Her skin starts cooling, she feels filthy in the most glorious way as she pulls on her panties. Perhaps Graham has hoped she'd be gone when he comes out of the bathroom but she doesn't do him that favour. When he does come back, she smiles at him.

“You destroyed my car window and it's freezing outside. How about you give me a ride back to Baltimore?” 

Graham looks at her with possibly even more resentment than before. Her smile arches into a grin.

Inside her the story hums, she can feel it evolving, taking shape. She will remember his needy gasps and moans and the way his tongue felt against her when she writes his story, when she takes him apart. 

“So?” she says.

He looks at as if he wants to strangle her right on the spot, but he does get out his car keys.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think please! It is not often I write hetero smut.  
> Among the Scholars of War taken from Ginsberg's Howl.


End file.
